User blog:Squibstress/Because It Is Bitter, and Because It Is My Heart - Chapter 17
Title: Because It Is Bitter, and Because It Is My Heart Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama Warning/s: Explicit sexual situations; non-con; character death Published: 05/06/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter Seventeen Roads High and Low O ye’ll tak’ the high road and I’ll tak’ the low road, An’ I’ll be in Scotland afore ye … ~ “Loch Lomand” (Anon.) Minerva often wondered what it would have been like had they had time to create another memory for the Dark Lord. Would they have been freer with one another? More awkward? Would he have allowed himself pleasure in the act? Would she? These were theoretical questions, of course, and not the kind Minerva usually indulged, but there was much about the past year that was unusual for her, to say the least. She wondered how much she had changed. As things turned out, the next time she spoke to him was the night she drove him from the castle. She was in her sitting room reading sixth-year essays when she was interrupted by a knock on the door. She opened it to reveal an agitated Filius Flitwick. “Yes, Filius, what is it?” she asked when she saw the furrows in his brow. “I’m not sure,” he replied, “and I’m sorry to disturb you, but I thought someone else—on our side—should be aware. Amycus Carrow just had me let Alecto into the Ravenclaw common room.” Minerva snorted. It was unsurprising that the dull-witted Carrow woman could not answer the simple riddle that would permit her to enter Ravenclaw. “Why?” Minerva asked. “She wouldn’t tell me. Her language was … well, you can imagine,” said Filius, who disapproved of coarseness in language as in much else. “Indeed,” sighed Minerva. “It can’t be for good. Was she looking for a student?” she asked with concern. If one of the Carrows was in search of a student, it could only mean a painful evening for the unfortunate Ravenclaw. “No, I don’t think so. When we entered the common room, the students that were there left in a hurry, and she didn’t ask after anyone. She looked as if she was planning to stay for some time,” said Flitwick. Minerva was disturbed. She didn’t like not knowing what the Carrows were up to; normally, they were utterly transparent, interested only in deriving maximum enjoyment from the many punishments they inflicted on the students. If something important was happening, she very much doubted the Dark Lord would entrust the information only to them. He was a madman, but he was not stupid. Severus. She must see Severus. “Filius, I’m very concerned about this,” she said. “As am I, Minerva,” he responded. “There’s something I need to do,” she said carefully. “Would you keep an eye on Ravenclaw Tower until I return? Don’t go in, just wait near the stairway. If anything seems amiss, send your Patronus … to the Headmaster’s office,” she said, hesitantly. The man blanched. “The Headmaster’s office, Minerva? Surely you don’t mean to see him alone?” he asked. “I think I have to,” she replied. “Minerva, why don’t I go see Snape? You can watch over Ravenclaw,” he offered. “No, Filius. I appreciate your concern, but I am capable of dealing with Severus Snape for the moment, I assure you, and it’s better if I go alone,” she said. When he continued to look at her with distress, she added, “Please, Filius. I only want to find out if there is anything he knows. As Deputy Headmistress, it’s within my purview. He will not harm me. Not without others to back him up.” “I doubt he’ll tell you anything, Minerva,” said Filius, still full of reservations. “Possibly not, but I need to try. It will be fine, Filius. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairwell to Ravenclaw Tower as soon as I’ve seen him. Try not to worry. I am rather adept at defending myself when I am not without my wand,” she told him. “All right, Minerva,” Flitwick said hesitantly. “But if I don’t see you very soon, I’m coming after you,” he added. His concern for her personal safety touched her. She put her hand on the shorter wizard’s shoulder. “Thank you, Filius. I’ll see you in a bit.” Flitwick left reluctantly, and Minerva put on her slippers. For a moment, she debated changing from her nightclothes but decided against it. If she met anyone along the way, she could tell them there was an urgent problem with one of her Gryffindors, and it would look odd if she were fully dressed at that time of night. When she reached the Headmaster’s office, she gave the password and went up the spiral staircase. She knocked on the door for only a moment before it opened. Snape was fully dressed, including his black outer robes. “Minerva! What are you doing here?” he asked, obviously taken aback. They had not seen one another since the night they had spent together. He had considered writing to her, or even seeking her out afterwards, but had thought the better of it. It would be risky, and besides, he believed that she would prefer not to refer to their brief coming together. Neither of them was under any illusions about what that night had meant. Snape immediately gained control of his emotions—long years of practice made it almost automatic—and said, “Please, come in.” She stepped into the room and said, “Severus, Alecto Carrow is in the Ravenclaw common room. Filius says she looks like she’s waiting for something. Can you think of any reason she might wish to do this?” He didn’t answer for a few moments, then said thoughtfully, “The Dark Lord believes Potter will show up in Ravenclaw Tower.” “But why?” she asked. “I don’t know. He has only told me that he is confident the boy will return to Hogwarts soon and that he will eventually make his way there,” replied Snape. She registered his attire for the first time. “Does he think it will be tonight?” “Possibly. If so, he has not informed me. I am only instructed to be ready at all times to intercept Potter,” replied Severus. His eyes were, as they so often appeared, unfathomable. “Why else would the Carrows want to be in Ravenclaw Tower?” she asked. “I can think of no other reason.” She was becoming increasingly frustrated with his calm. “How is it that Alecto and Amycus Carrow might know anything that you are not aware of? I thought you were his right-hand man,” she said accusingly. “I have the Dark Lord’s confidence; however, there are others who are not so sure of my allegiances. Or who are envious of my status with the Dark Lord. It is possible they are aware of some indication of Potter’s movements and chose to alert Amycus rather than myself. The Dark Lord has always encouraged petty jealousies and competition among his followers,” replied Severus. “Do you believe something is to happen tonight?” she asked. “Tonight, or perhaps tomorrow. Unless, of course, Amycus and Alecto have blundered, which would hardly be unexpected. However …” he started. “However?” “The Dark Lord has been increasingly agitated of late. I believe—I hope—this means that Potter’s quest has been fruitful,” he said. “Surely it would be madness for Potter to come here, though,” Minerva said. “Yes. However as little faith as I have always had in his judgement—” Minerva frowned at this “—I do not think he would be so foolish as to return to Hogwarts unless there were a good reason to do so,” Severus said. “Do you?” “No.” She was already searching her mind, looking for ways she might help Harry achieve … whatever it was he was meant to. Damn Albus for his bloody secretiveness! Why could he not confide in me? she asked herself for the thousandth time. Severus suddenly felt his Dark Mark tingle. “Minerva …” “Yes?” “He is coming.” “Potter?” she asked, wondering how he knew. “No. The Dark Lord. The Mark …” He couldn’t finish. “Severus—” “Go back to your quarters, Minerva. Stay there,” said Severus without thinking. “Are you mad? If the Dark Lord is coming, it means something is to happen. If so, I need to be there to protect the students,” she said. “You cannot protect them,” he said, his voice louder and higher than he might have intended. “I mean to try,” she countered fiercely. As you did that night in the Great Hall? he almost asked. It was perhaps a tribute to his odd friendship with Minerva that he held his tongue. It was his habit, when uncomfortable, to lash out, the best defence being a good offence, and offence being a strategy Snape knew how to play well. Whatever was to happen tonight, he did not want Minerva anywhere near it. This was irrational, he recognised. Minerva, besides being Deputy Headmistress and bound to protect the children under her care, was … Minerva. He could not expect her to hide from a battle simply because he wanted her to live. Simply because he cared for her. It was the first time he had admitted it to himself. Minerva was the first person he had truly cared for since Lily. He did not love her—not as he had loved Lily, anyway—but she had become the closest thing to a friend he had had since his school days. Unfamiliar emotions suddenly washed over him like a rogue wave. They were, he had mused in past weeks, like two survivors of the same terrible accident—that accident having been the unhappy concurrence of the egos of two powerful men—bound together by the understanding born of mutual pain. Now, although he knew he would likely not survive the next sequela of the initial impact, he was nearly desperate to ensure that she would. But of course he could not. “As you wish,” he said finally. “You know I must fulfil my role, Minerva.” They both knew what he meant. “Yes,” she said quietly. “In case we do not meet again, I want you to know …” His voice was thick as he struggled to find the words to tell her what she had meant to him. Perhaps there were none in the language. She saved him the final indignity of having to say it. “I know.” She stepped closer and kissed his forehead. “Godspeed, Severus.” She walked out the door. ~oOo~ Flitwick was pacing in agitation in the hallway outside the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower. “Minerva! Thank Merlin!” he cried. “What is it, Filius?” Minerva asked. “Are you … are you well?” the Charms professor asked, absurdly. “Yes, yes, fine. Have you seen anything?” she asked, impatient with his solicitousness. “You’ve just missed Amycus. He didn’t see me, but—” Flitwick began, but his narrative was made moot by the sound of shouting from the stairwell. “I dunno, do I? Shut it!” echoed Carrow’s gruff voice from above. He continued pounding on the door and shouting to his sister. Minerva said, “Filius, alert the other staff that there may be trouble coming, and make sure the students are all in their common rooms. I will send a Patronus if you are needed. This may be nothing, but I would like everyone to be prepared.” “For what?” asked Filius. “Immediate evacuation,” she said. Flitwick paled, then nodded and hurried off, and Minerva went into Ravenclaw Tower. When Harry Potter revealed himself after Carrow spat in her face, she was not especially surprised. She was, however, shocked when Potter used the Cruciatus Curse on the Death Eater. It frightened her to realise—to admit to herself—that Severus was correct in his estimation of Potter. Not of his motives—she would never believe Harry to be petty or self-aggrandising—but his lack of judgement and inability to control his emotions. The realisation terrified her: Albus had left their fates—the fate of the wizarding world—in the hands of an impetuous boy. She cast the first Unforgivable Curse she had used since the last war, Imperiusing the still-dazed Amycus Carrow into collecting his and Alecto’s wands, out of her own anger and fear, and out of a sudden desire to align herself with Harry Potter through the strange bond of having used Dark magic on a common, if petty, enemy. Harry’s assertion that he was searching for something in the castle at Albus’s behest brought home another hard truth: they had run out of options. It was time to stand and fight. She would defend the school and her students with her last drop of blood, and she would give Harry—whom she loved almost as a son—as much time as possible to fulfil whatever destiny Albus had decreed. As the events of what would eventually come to be known as the Battle of Hogwarts unfolded, Minerva had no time to reflect. She played her part well: She drove Severus from the castle, assuring he would be at the Dark Lord’s side during whatever was to come; she oversaw the evacuation of the students and marshalled the staff; she battled—and killed—Death Eaters; she duelled Voldemort himself, much as she had during the duelling matches in their student days; however, this time the predatory gleam came from her eye as well as his. Later she would be told that her actions were “heroic”, but she remembered little about the battle, save for two things: the moment she saw Harry, evidently dead, in Hagrid’s arms, and the moment Voldemort told Harry he had killed Severus Snape. When Minerva saw what Hagrid held in his arms as he approached the entrance hall, she could not prevent the ragged scream that escaped her throat. All for naught. Harry had failed, and everything they had endured—everything she had endured over the past months—was rendered pointless. Severus’s tortures and loneliness, her rape and subsequent acquiescence to a plan that made her a subject of prurient entertainment for the creature that had once been Tom Riddle, Albus’s death—most especially that—and Severus’s willingness to bear the name of his murderer. Without Harry Potter, Voldemort would win. She did not know how or why this was so, but Albus had believed it, as had Severus, and she had believed in these two men at different times and in different ways, and their agreement on this one point made it, in her estimation, nearly beyond question. Somewhere, from deep within the recesses of her memory, her father’s voice sounded, clear and strong: “Great Brynhildr’s ghost, lass, have I not taught ye to think fer yerself?” She nearly burst out laughing. And then, it seemed, Neville was killing the snake, and she was duelling the Dark Lord, and Harry … Harry was alive somehow and, incredibly, debating the Dark Lord, who said, “I killed Severus Snape three hours ago,” which was the last thing Minerva recalled hearing clearly. The rest was noise. ← Back to Chapter 16 On to Chapter 18→ Category:Chapters of Because It Is Bitter, and Because It Is My Heart